


we're hustling under (but we live in the city)

by voodoochild



Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: Clothing Kink, Community: fic_promptly, Gen, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-08
Updated: 2011-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-27 01:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voodoochild/pseuds/voodoochild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A defining moment in the life of Charlie Luciano. With bonus clothing-kink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're hustling under (but we live in the city)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Fic Promptly prompt "collar". Title from the Gaslight Anthem's "Queen of Lower Chelsea".
> 
> The bodyguard character on BE played by Peter Claymore hasn't been named, I have no idea what the real Rothstein's bodyguard's name was, and I'm probably breaking history again. Have some clothing-kink anyway?

"Boss?"

You hadn't understood why Irv had spoken, that first time.

The big man didn't talk much - who needed to, when the mook had biceps that Dempsey could only dream of, and a bean-shooter holstered under each arm? - but he'd stood in AR's dining room and looked at you like you'd grown a second head.

"Problem, Irving?" AR had asked, cool as you please, collar held between two fingers with his back to you.

It hadn't hit you, that day, until you remembered that while he was the Man Uptown now, Arnold Rothstein grew up in the same New York that you had. He walked the streets of the Tenderloin with a payout for Tim Sullivan, the way you and Meyer walk them now with the Bankroll's money. The city that never sleeps teaches its children to never turn your back on anyone, friend or foe, unless you're sure of their loyalty.

And you can never really be sure, can you?

But AR had stood in his shirtsleeves, suspenders down around his waist, like an ordinary man, and asked you to fix his collar. Turned his back and bared his neck like you weren't a threat . . . because you're not.

You've killed for this man, and you'd die for this man. One day you know you and Meyer will take over from him, make New York your own. If it comes down to blood being spilt for it, it won't be either of your fingers (his or yours) on the trigger.

Irv looks over at you, and he must have seen your resolve, because he nods. "No problem, boss."

He goes back to his post outside the doors, and you take the collar from Rothstein. Pin it into place in the back, and fold it down neatly. AR turns around, hanging a tie around his neck and buttoning the top button on his waistcoat. Carolyn's picked out the gold bow tie today, and you brush his hands away to tie it yourself.

(He's the one who taught you, after all. You'd never worn so much as a stickpin before he took you down to the Garment District and talked fabrics with the tailor until they were blue in the face and you suddenly had four new suits.)

"You feel like taking a trip up to Saratoga?" he asks when you're finished, picking up his jacket from the chair.

"Sure. Long as you pick for me, I'm lousy with horses."

He smiles, one of those little ones out of the corner of his mouth, and ushers you out into the hall toward the door.

"It's like hooking a broad, Charlie. Treat her right, put her through her paces, and you'll always reap the benefits."

Your shocked laughter rings through the townhouse, and you grab your hat off the rack as you follow him out. Sweltering, New York summer hits you right in the face, and even though you're sweating through one of your new suits, you don't feel it.

AR's hand is on the back of your neck and you're both about to win a very large amount of money. Life is good.


End file.
